Someday Ashton Kutcher will appear in a movie that justifies his "hot" status. "My Boss's Daughter" is not that movie. But at least we can see what
Demi Moore
sees in him.

Kutcher, helped by a slumming Terrence Stamp, keeps this lousy comedy from complete disaster. The rare male beauty who lacks vanity onscreen -- think a young Rob Lowe without the self-awareness -- the warm, winning Kutcher makes the transition to straight man after playing doofuses in "That '70s Show," "Dude, Where's My Car?" and "Just Married." If only the comedy around him were funnier.

Released Friday without a screening for critics, "My Boss's Daughter" tries screwball and gross-out comedy and fails on both counts. Director David Zucker,

one of the brothers who made "Airplane!" and "Naked Gun," has lost the crack timing of those movies. There are moments in "Boss's Daughter" where actors seem to be looking off camera for direction. Seriously.

Through contrivances not worth going into, Kutcher winds up house-sitting for his exacting boss, a publishing magnate played with gusto by Stamp, whose ice-blue eyes and tendency to chew on the word "schedule" (pronounced "shedule") would have any junior editor shaking in his boots.

Make that medical booties, since the publisher is so careful about guests tracking dirt into the house that he requires slip-on socks. He's also particular about his pet owl and the owl's food -- a cage of mice. Fans of slapstick comedy, especially bad slapstick comedy, know that both owl and rodents will roam free the second the boss leaves. It's also a safe bet that all sorts of eccentric types (read: supporting actors looking for paychecks) will wander in to debase the house.

Kutcher keeps his dignity throughout, a hard thing to do with mice down one's pants. His good-guy character is exceptionally likable because he's nice to everybody, not just the boss' attractive daughter (Tara Reid), who's in the title but not in the movie much at all.

Molly Shannon appears more often, as the boss' trashy secretary. But not even the reliable Shannon can squeeze laughs from this dud. When a fight erupts between the secretary and her roughneck beau, he claims that hitting her with an open hand isn't abuse, then tells her, "You're no longer welcome in the double-wide."

Making fun of spousal abuse and poor people in the same bit would seem a new low, until the jokes about disabled people. Bad taste is one thing -- like the Farrelly brothers, the Zuckers are famous for it -- but it has to be warm and witty to succeed. Here, the setups are flat and a bit sickening.

The romantic angle might have worked better if Reid didn't look so ready to roll. Tanned and eyelinered as if about to dash out to meet the Hilton sisters at Nobu, she doesn't read as a publishing executive, but she does seem at home in a brief strip scene. Very little distinguishes her good girl from Electra's bad girl, except that Reid is a little more tan. Even her armpits have a healthy glow.

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